


The Hallowed Eve of The Past

by Aristi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Halloween, Halloween isn't fun for Harry, His parents died on Halloween, M/M, Minor Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27310285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aristi/pseuds/Aristi
Summary: Halloween isn't about trick-or-treating for Harry.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62





	The Hallowed Eve of The Past

**Author's Note:**

> I head canon that even though Harry never really remembered his parent's death on Halloween (in canon), that after the Battle of Hogwarts, it becomes the night he remembers/grieves for everyone who died in the fight against Voldemort.

There were children screaming in the streets. 

If Harry had cared to look, he would have seen white sheets with eye holes fluttering around the block, black hats and brooms racing from house to house, and toilet paper wrapped into child-shaped forms, stumbling forward with a bucket full of sweets. Smiles betrayed the screams for the joyous shrieks they were. But Harry did not look. 

The lights were off at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, not that it would have made any difference to the children outside. They couldn’t see the house anyway. Still, the lights were always kept dark on this night. Harry wouldn’t forget. Not tonight. 

It was the screams brought Harry to the floor, and the screams that kept him there. Tonight, like every year, past and present blurred. A child’s scream didn’t sound that much different than an adult’s, after all. 

Sometimes it was his mother’s screams. 

_“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!”_

Other times it was Dumbledore in the cave. 

_“I want to die! I want to die! Make it stop, make it stop, I want to die!”_

_“KILL ME!”_

Screams he’d never even heard before, except in his nightmares, melded together with real ones in a macabre highlight reel. Cedric, Colin, Sirius, Molly, Charity Burbage, Lavender, Fred, Dobby, Hermione, George, Teddy, Alastor, Crabbe, Ron, Narcissa, Frank Bryce, Remus, Tonks— it never ended. 

Occasionally he heard his own screams. It was hard to tell if it was from moments long since passed, or if he was screaming right then. 

Even those screams couldn’t drown out the worst of them. The scream he’d heard while crouched in a dusty passageway, fear sending his heart galloping. Pain thrusting him into another body. 

He’d watched through eyes that weren’t his own. A too-long arm had swiped a wand that did not yet know it was his, and a cage rolled forward. And then he’d watched and heard as Severus screamed.

Even on good days, the scream followed him into his nights, his constant companion. He would wake up with the echoes of the scream ringing in his ears, drenched in fear and sweat. And on Halloween, it stole his breath from his lungs and ripped tears from his eyes. His soul shattered and his mind was apparated to the shack while his empty body shook over his knees. 

It was screams that tore him apart, but it was soft words that put him together again. 

“Breathe.”

“It’s alright.”

“It’s over.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Breathe, Harry.” 

“I’m right here.” 

“I love you.” 

“I’m right here.” 

“You’re going to be okay.” 

“I’m here.” 

His stolen air was returned with gentle touches, his tears soaked up on midnight black robes. His soul was soothed with a tender kiss, and when he came back to himself — blurry eyed, quivering, broken — it was familiar arms that cupped all the messy, ragged pieces of himself. He looked into black eyes, free of the terror he’d once seen in them, and knew all was well.


End file.
